


On Beyond the Bootstraps Down

by ChemFishee



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: 2010 Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChemFishee/pseuds/ChemFishee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate turns the knob, and they crash into the stairwell of Nate’s townhouse. <i>T. Rex</i> made less noise than they do.<br/>(February 2010)</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Beyond the Bootstraps Down

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Blow's "How Naked Are We Gonna Get?"  
> (Comment!Fic originally posted [here](http://chemfishee.livejournal.com/165610.html?thread=1742058#t1742058).)

They have both been drinking.  
  
Poke called earlier in the day to tell them Angie was pregnant again. He was in town, and they agreed to meet up for a celebratory beer later.  
  
A celebratory beer had turned into five and then whiskey for Brad and too-sweet amaretto sours for Nate.  
  
At least Rudy had the presence of mind to call a cab for everyone.  
  
Brad wraps himself around Nate’s back, hands digging under Nate’s button-down and sweater, searching for skin. Nate fumbles slotting the key into the lock twice before he knocks Brad’s hands away. Brad nuzzles his nose into the back of Nate’s neck. Nate turns the key, and Brad bodychecks him into the door. He’s sucking a mark in the paper-thin skin behind Nate’s ear. Nate turns the knob, and they crash into the stairwell of Nate’s townhouse. _T. Rex_ made less noise than they do.  
  
Brad manages to let go of Nate’s hip and slam the door shut hard enough to rattle the glass. He hopes the neighbors are really out of town.  
  
Nate tosses the keys in the direction of the entryway table; they skid along the surface and dive into his running shoe.  
  
Brad disengages from Nate’s neck. He rubs his thumb through the sticky-cool saliva drying there and presses into the bruise. Nate flinches, which gains him enough leverage to toe off his shoes and turn around. He presses his advantage into Brad, slamming him back into the door and licking into the dip of Brad’s collarbone. Brad’s head thunks into the door.  
  
Nate skims his hands up Brad’s ribs, dragging his shirt loose from the waistband of his jeans. Brad grabs the hem of Nate’s shirts and pulls.  
  
A button pops off and skitters across the floor. Nate’s shirts catch on his shoulder and ear. Brad tugs one more time before giving up and letting Nate pull the damn things off. Brad grabs the back of his own shirt, pulls, tosses it in the general direction of the hallway and reaches for Nate in one fluid motion.  
  
Nate has finally unfucked the situation. His clothes drop beside the door. He reaches for Brad’s belt and deftly unbuckles it. Nate grabs hold of both ends of the leather and yanks Brad into his negative spaces.  
  
Brad slides his hands to Nate’s hips, bracing himself to lean in and brush their lips together. Nate grunts and presses his mouth harder into Brad’s. Brad grins and goes to work opening Nate’s mouth with his tongue. He sucks the taste of sours mix and licks along Nate’s teeth.  
  
Nate starts walking them backwards, heading for the stairs. The banister digs into his spine. Nate trips, crashing into the stairs and dragging Brad down with him.  
  
Brad breaks the kiss, huffing a laugh into the side of Nate’s neck. “You okay?”  
  
Nate’s answer is to slide a hand around Brad’s side and up his spine. “Yep.”  
  
“Good.” Brad nips along Nate’s jaw. He braces his arms on either side of Nate’s shoulders and pushes himself up. He leverages himself on one side and pops the button on Nate’s jeans, slipping his fingers into the waistband.  
  
Nate arches, digging his blunted nails into the groove of Brad’s spine. Brad works his hand into Nate’s boxer-briefs, and Nate crashes back into the stairs. There are fingers wrapping around his cock, followed by the paper-dry slide of Brad’s calluses.  
  
Nate trails his hands down to Brad’s ass. He shoves one hand into Brad’s jeans and tracks it along the elastic of Brad’s briefs. Nate squeezes the head of Brad’s dick. He’s rewarded by Brad grunting and pushing his hip into Nate’s thigh.  
  
Brad braces his weight on his elbows and thrusts against Nate. Nate’s wrist bends awkwardly with the movement, no give in Brad’s jeans. When Brad does it again, Nate pulls his hand out. He works to unbutton the offending garments and push them out of the way.  
  
“Good thinking.” Brad’s voice is rough around the edges. Nate wraps his fingers around Brad’s cock again and jacks twice.  
  
“Wait a second.” Nate pushes his own jeans and underwear down to his own thighs.  
  
Brad leans down to press another kiss into Nate’s mouth. His cock drags along Nate’s belly. Nate presses against the base of Brad’s spine, bringing him as close as possible without wrapping his legs around Brad’s hips.  
  
Brad ruts against Nate, his ass flexing. He shifts to get friction in the groove of Nate’s hip. They’re panting. Nate’s hips rise to meet Brad’s.  
  
His orgasm sneaks up on him lightning quick. One moment, he’s grinding into Brad’s belly, and the next his toes are curling into the wood, and he’s coming.  
  
Brad slides in the sweat pooling between them, thrusts one, two, four more times and stills. He’s trembling with the effort to hold his weight off Nate. Nate’s arms fall to his sides, and Brad manages to flop himself onto the stair beside Nate.  
  
Nate slants a glance at him and starts chuckling. “At least we didn’t come in our jeans.”  
  
Brad pushes his damp hair off his forehead. “There is that.” He smiles over at Nate, the corners of his eyes creasing.


End file.
